 | CAMELLIA STADTS is a lifelong Michigan resident who has always loved all the beauty that Michigan holds. Her work has been published in the anthologies “Journey of the Heart”, and “Where Journeys Meet” and an essay entitled “Angels” in the book “Finding Our Wings: A Collection of Angelic Stories and Poems” – Spiritual Writers Network. Camellia holds a BA in English from Marygrove College in Detroit, and has two grown children and an 8-year old grandson. |
Patience
To wait out test results
That will determine
How you will live
The rest of your life
To fill this time
Writing poems,
Letters, just thoughts
Or fears
This act of patience
Is the strongest
And most courageous
Thing you can do.
—
Heaven
To have glimpsed heaven
Through near death
As a baby, too young
To be aware except now
To come across times that
Catch me up unexpectedly
Certain things in this life
That cannot be explained
That lets me know the
Veil is thin and is there
To remind me of a time
I have forgotten until
A color catches my heart
Or music that knows my soul
All I can do is whisper to
Myself, “yes, I know this,
I know this well.”
—
A Polish Supper
Polish ancestry
Strong in my blood
Try to understand,
To comprehend
All that went on in
Another country,
Another war that
Began and ended
Before my birth.
Milosez and Szymborska,
They must both be
Present at my dinner.
Served simply, a simple fare
For two humble people
I would ask them about
Poems I have read and
Re-read, underlined on
Dog-eared pages 216 and51
I need to understand
How poetry kept them alive.
—
ENDS
The end of life
Joy of a life well lived
Sorry for one that was not
The end of a meal
Followed by great conversation
Or dishes done in silence
The end of days
Evening sunset brings
Sorrow or peace
The end of creation
The final act
Of destruction
The end of the road
Dead end
Decisions to be made
The end of a love affair
Pain, relief,
Tears, sorrow
Ends, sometimes
Can be what we make them.
—
With grateful thanks to Lewis Carroll and Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
Galumphing Love
A romantic baboon by the wabe of the moon
Playing so brillig on his golden bassoon
Stopped in the middle of his mimsy and swoon
To orate a piece from his favourite poem:
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”
His voice bellowed clear to the edge of the room
Where the Jabberwock on such a frabjous day
Chortled in her joy, “Callooh, Callay!”
She knew love came in beamish fashions,
This baboon was the epitome of her passions.
True love ignited as their uffish eyes met
The most unlikely pair you have ever seen yet:
A romantic baboon by the wabe of the moon
Hand in hand with his manxome buffoon –
She gave a whiffle and burble of outgrabe affection
No more regarded as an object of slithy rejection.
—
Walking to Consciousness
When most people walk, they just walk
Never noticing the effort the body makes
As it puts one foot in front of the other
If you have a defect such as cerebral palsy
Where things in the brain do not connect
So easily, the simple act of walking needs
To be mastered on a daily basis
Focus must be made for each step so
As not to stumble and fall
Learning consciousness in walking,
As well as breathing can bring
Awareness that leads to joy in
These simplest of pleasures
Breathe, Step, smile, breathe, step, smile, breathe…
—
How to Lose My Love
How can you lose my love?
Through times of weaving and dodging
Good times and bad.
I stood firm, riding the waves of
Loneliness and pain
How can you lose my love?
I formed a shield around our bond
That I realized was not a bond at all
But a fractured vessel that no amount
Of grasping and fortitude could keep
My love from seeping out, faltering.
How can you lose my love?
To show up in body only
Believing that was enough
As I groped for something more
Than an ego and hard cock
Maybe a tender kiss or soft touch
That never materialized.
—
The Mercy of Silence
How much it is treasured but not sought
In this day and age where noise has
Become the norm of the universe.
Boomboxes, earbuds, the louder the better
Internet, satellite television, ringtones
Twitter, facebook, your duck lips out there
Expectancy of response, the oftentimes
Very loud response of anger
Gun shots, sirens, cries in the night –
Turn it up, turn up those distractions
That keep you from hearing the
Sorrows that tear at your heart…Yes,
Drown it out, leave it to someone else.
It gets to be too much to bear. Really
It’s understandable to just want to
Enjoy life and not worry about the
Horror that goes on in the world
Until it hits home and you are forced
To take out the earbuds, turn down the
Noise and face the music of reality
Right in your own backyard.
—
Righteous Anger
Is there such a thing as
Righteous anger?
Quite an oxymoron I
Would say
But it really just means
Anger that is justified,
Doesn’t it? So that
Makes it o.k., right?
The Bible says do not let
Your rage linger after sundown
What caused the fire must be
Settled somehow first.
Is it worth the risk to allow
Your anger to simmer and stew
Believing if it be righteous that
It will do no harm to your soul
—
Lost Keys and Rusted Chains
I see my future in the distance
I see my past there too
Standing guard at the gate of my dreams
The gate has been locked for so long
The key, having fallen out of a
Hole in my pocket long ago
There was a time of unconcern
That left me with nothing
Now only rusted chains hold my spirit
I see it all beyond the gate
The key wasn’t all I lost from my pocket
My soul holds a longing gaze for my heart
—
Happy Earth Day
Just how happy is the earth
And the creatures that inhabit her?
Thoughtless destruction of rain forests
So that cattle can graze for McDonald’s
Profit and palm oil can be leached to
Produce products that cannot
Be recognized by nature.
Let us not forget our precious resource,
Water, that in all its ways, oceans, rivers
Lakes and streams we have abused
To the point of gagging filth
The thought of killing for sport and
Profit to the point of extinction,
Elephants, rhinos, gorillas and chimps…
The list is endless, but they are not.
And can I bear to talk about the
Precious creatures that pollinate for
Our benefit, the honeybees, that
Cannot do what they were designed
To do without getting poisoned by
Man who thinks he can outsmart nature.
I ask you, can the earth be saved? Can we?
—
To Dream
I run, but I cannot hide
I’m lost in the darkened
Rooms of my mind
I’m not afraid
Well, maybe only a little
Afraid of the uncertainty of
What’s next; what I cannot see
Wait…Am I dreaming or
Am I awake? It’s so hard to
Tell sometimes which is
More real
—
Heavy Heart
Tears dry up like a river
That hits Death Valley
My body cannot stand upright
For the weight of my sadness
My heart breaks with despair
I am told, “This too shall pass”
Yes, this too, like happiness,
Like love, like peace, like death
Yes, this too shall pass.
—
Meditation 2
Sit before my alter
Photos of Jesus, Mary
And my ancestors before me
Lighting a candle along with incense
The scent of Palo Santo fills the air
A few deep breaths for centering
And awareness of the present moment
The dog next door is barking
Children’s screaming and laughter
From across the road fill the air
Sirens and traffic, horns blaring
As I slowly find the silence within
The Holy Silence no amount of
Earthly noise can penetrate
There is peace in my soul
—
Come Back to Earth
The smell of a barnyard
The smell of horses and hay
The smell of grass and chickens
Sweet earthy smells that take
You from one world to a world
Not like any other.
You become transported to wildness
To beauty and wholeness
The sound of hens muttering as
They peck for morsels amidst
Weeds and rocks, horses shuffling
Their hooves as they munch fresh
Sundried straw – both content and
In the present moment as the earth
Beneath them.
To be caught up in the beauty
Is pure Grace that blesses us
With the gifts of amazement and awe.
—
Poem Day 15 –
Meditation 1
Standing on the ocean shore
My hair whipping around my face
A shawl held tight on my shoulders
Afraid the wind will steal it for itself
I sit down in the sand that’s still
Warm from the day’s sun
Crossing my legs I begin my
Meditation, giving thanks to the
Elements that surround me
Allowing the roar of the waves
To carry me….carry me away
—
FREEDOM
I have never been locked
In a jail cell, but I have
Spent too much time in
Cells of my own making.
The cell of insecurity
The cell of shame
The cell of anger
The cell of hate
The cell of pain,
To name just a few.
To turn the page and start over
Like someone who has been
Behind bars for so long and
Finally set free whether there was
Guilt or innocence, there has to be
A choice made to move forward
Without looking back. To believe in
Your own worth and to be brave
Enough to share the love that has
Been buried far too deep for far long.
—
The Litany of a Small Life
My love flows toward the long forgotten Catholic rituals
Growing up with evening Masses for special Feast days
I cherish those memories of darkened pews and the
Smell of candles and incense that seemed more
Prominent after the sun went down.
The statues of Mary and Jesus would glow in
The candle light that made them seem to come alive.
During the Mass a Litany would be said by the
Almost full church.
Litanies, at those times, in Latin making it even more
Mystical and sacred to my eight year old eyes and ears
Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis, te rogamus audi nos
Rosa Mystica, ora pro nobis, te rogamus audi nos
I would soon lose myself in an almost trace-like
State by the repetition and holiness of it all.
Afterwards filing out through the wide church doors
Out into the cold night air, stopping to look up
At the clear star filled sky and knew that
I had touched God this night.
—
And So It Goes…
I cannot stop
I cannot doubt
The words that flow
From my heart to yours
The world keeps turning
Too fast at times
I grasp and cling
To slow it down
And if I feel
I have succeeded
Then what?
The words that once
Were so clear, so desperate
To be spoken
Vanish like smoke
Before my eyes
Only to turn up
In another form
Similar, yet different
And so it goes…
—
To Choose
Purple is nice
But then so is pink
How to choose?
—
A Holy Gift
Finding it so much easier to spend time with
The spiritual side of life found in nature
I noted the slant in how I perceived the world as
Opposed to how the world expected to be perceived
To be told that what I saw as meaningful was foolishness
And would get me nowhere regardless of what I
Knew to be holy.
The pleasure to be found in the presence of God in
The trees, the soil that was teaming with life
Finding myself unable to move as lightning and
Thunder surrounding me causing me to tremble,
But not with fear, but understanding. While everyone
Else ran inside, quickly closing windows, I would run out
And just as the clouds broke loose I fell to my knees and
Rivulets poured forth both from my eyes and the sky, to
Heal, to cleanse to bring forth newness both inside and out.
—
Ode to Metamorphosis
Silver Age brings co-creation
Demeter blesses the sweat of man’s brow
Corn, barley and grapes bring bread and wine
To restore man’s strength for another day.
Recognize where the gift comes from
Your work, o’man is in vane if not blessed
Prayers, incense rise up to the mysteries
Demeter’s gift of fertile soil, Gaia cradles the seed.
Apollo gives warmth from the sun, Zeus gives showers
Even the bee cannot give honey, unless the flower grows
The bee must work for its own nourishment and ours.
Slaves to the gods you mortals must be throughout your days
Seasons change, time is fleeting and too soon the cold wind blows
Ice covers the once pregnant soil which held an abundance of life
The cold will not last. In due season Persphone will return bringing
Fertility with her, by her mother’s grace
*Homeric Hymns sing to “Noble Demeter, mistress of fruits in their season…”
*(p 3)
—
Summer Dreams
It’s late, but I pick up my needles anyway
As I place the ball of yarn in my lap and
Take up my needles I instantly
Settle back into the recliner and smile
The yarn is a beautiful Noro, soft with colors
That captured my attention the moment I
Saw them, coral, turquoise and a soft beige
Called sand, blended into one skein
I’m making a sweater to wear to the beach
Come summer, perfect for after a day of healing
In the ocean waves when the sun goes down.
—
Awaiting Spring
Deep calls to deep
A love hidden
April in Michigan
Every day looking
Out my window
Seven floors below
Where a barren
Garden a waits
Warmth from the sun
To encourage eager
Hands to dig deep
And plant a
Hopeful harvest
Come Fall
—
Ode to Desire
Fan stirs the air
Lifting the sheet
Like a determined lover
Caressing my thigh
I lie still
Grateful for its touch
Giving my skin
Familiar stirrings
I usually get from hot hands.
Release me from this heat
With your cool embrace.
—
—
LOVE SHINES
Terror is everywhere
But so is Love
We just have to dig a little deeper to find it
It’s buried beneath the rubble and the chaos
So like our souls
buried beneath the rubble and chaos of life
Love shines.
—
More Real Than This
slow moving time
Dawn is far off
or so it seems.
the distance
Someone’s heart
is breaking
or has stopped.
to break –
Is that a cry I hear?
Someone’s bitter scream?
will take it all away
Take me to another world
That’s more real than this.